To Rescue a Runaway
by AnimatorZee
Summary: [SPOILERS] Augustus Aquato finally arrives at Whispering Rock to take Razputin home. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned when he encounters his son.
1. A Runaway Gone Wrong

Augustus wasn't sure why he felt such a strange sense of urgency, but he did. So he stepped through the camp gates at an unfaborably late hour of the night, with little care as to whether or not someone would be upset and accuse him of breaking and entering. Oddly, his gut feeling wasn't proving to be right yet. The camp seemed safe and pleasant enough, although there were numerous notices to not feed any of the animals or go out at night without an adult.

The teachers there had been nice enough, as well, so he didn't have too many fears about Razputin getting into any trouble. He'd been contacted by a woman who'd sounded relieved to have finally found him. She assured him that Razputin was alright and they'd take good care of him until he arrived.

Naturally, Augustus had set out the moment he knew where his son was, though he felt a bit uneasy knowing what kind of company he was in. The woman sounded responsible enough, but it didn't do much to keep him at ease. The whole trip over had him feeling a strange and sourceless sense of dread. Five minutes after he'd set foot onto the camp grounds, the sense of peace he'd initially been met with quickly eroded to reveal that something was indeed terribly wrong.

The lights were out in the main lodge, and many of the lanterns were strangely dim. The sky was unnaturally dark. All wildlife had fallen silent, save for a few squirrels that eyed him cautiously from their perches in the trees.

The snapping of a twig underfoot caught Augustus's attention, and he whipped around to find the source. There was someone making their way up the path from the beach, toward the main lodge. It was too short to be any of the teachers, too slow to be someone in trouble. It could only be one of the campers…but why were they awake so late at night?

A closer look revealed all-too-familiar features. Scrawny limbs, a short stature, a head possibly too big for his body, and hands maybe one size too big for his arms. Augustus knew that silouhette anywhere: It was Razputin. He was stumbling forward and seemed a bit slow, but other than acting so dazed, he looked perfectly fine. The boy was wearing his usual town outfit: a pair of black boots, a leather blazer and matching pair of pants, a green sweater, and that old aviator cap that he brought home from town one day. Augustus winced when he noticed that his son smelled strongly of dust, ash and algae. He was going to need a long bath when he got home.

Augustus stepped forward, doing his best to mask his regret. "Razputin," he began firmly.

But the boy ignored him. He continued forward, barely paying the man any mind. Augustus wasn't sure whether to be concerned or disappointed with him. Normally a tone like that was enough to stiffen Razputin in anticipation, or at the very least get his attention.

"Razputin," Augustus repeated, this time a bit louder. "I'm here to take you home."

He expected a vehement refusal. Something along the lines of "No! I'm staying here!" or "You can't make me go back!" But his statement was met with, again, nothing. Razputin just continued to shuffle forward as though he weren't even there. Only then did Augustus notice that the air felt…empty, somehow. As though he were the only one on he path. But that couldn't be right. His son was clearly right in front of him.

One more try. Burying his sudden anxiety, Augustus took Razputin's arm. "I'm not going to repeat myself. We're going home."

But rather than the usual retort, or complaint, or any normal response, Razputin looked up, tilting his head at an eerily awkward angle, and stared soullessly at him.

"Tee-vee?" came an empty, monotone voice.

Augustus flinched, dropping his grip. The pieces rapidly fell together, and he didn't like what they were spelling out. Something was wrong. Something was very, _very_ wrong….


	2. Beasts and Barriers

Augustus Aquato always fiercely denied any claims that he had a fear of water, but that never meant he was exceedingly wary around it. Even driving a canoe like this one was something he'd not quite liked, but he'd done it anyway, and for one purpose: to save his son.

As it turns out, the campers were all hiding in the TV lounge in the main lodge, but something had scared them stiff around the time they saw him approaching. There were still no teachers in sight, although luckily the children were doing a decent job keeping themselves together (the Russian boy was doing an especially good job of keeping them in check, Augustus noted). They had many questions for him, among the most prominent were the whereabouts of Razputin - whom had last been seen attempting to cross the lake - and someone named Lili Zanatto.

Why Razputin would want to cross the lake was a mystery to them, although he wouldn't put it past the boy to do something reckless if he thought it was the right thing to do. Luckily there was still a canoe left at the docks, which Augustus appropriated immediately and drove across the lake at a speed he would have previously thought impossible.

Even from a distance, he could see that the island was bad news. There was smoke rising, and the remains of what was once a large structure. Although the ladder was no longer functional, Augustus had no issue climbing the chunks of stone and brick up to the top of the hill, past the smashed archway.

The scene was a mess. A woman, an old man, a younger man and a girl about his son's age were lying unconscious on the ground. Augustus recognized most of them easily; he'd seen them on the covers of Razputin's comic books quite regularly, especially the young man and woman. The girl, though…she was a new face. She had to have been his age, give or take a year. To see them all strewn about the way they were…something big must have happened.

Across from them was an enormous tank, conveniently placed in the center of the debris. There was no doubt in his mind that this was the source of the destruction. One mystery solved. It was unlike any tank he had seen before. It had no cannons, no weaponry of any kind; only a large tank in the front, the glass having been shattered at the top. Within it were several prongs, a thick green fluid, and two brains—wait, what?!

Two brains. There were _two brains_ in the tank. One of those brains must have belonged to his son. But why was it in there?

And throughout the area, something hung in the air. It was almost tangible, like a threatening, heavy, invisible mist that threatened to choke him. It was a something that Augustus was all too familiar with: fear.

Augustus was all too familiar with how fear felt. His children always felt timid when first learning new tricks during their training, and were never quite without fear when performing them after years of practice, either. He'd grown so used to how fear felt, he could pinpoint which one belonged to who by sense alone. And this fear, he knew, belonged to Razputin.

Without thinking, Augustus reached forward with his mind, only to hit the mental equivalent of a brick wall. He was shoved out the moment he had so much as tried to enter. Augustus shook it off; this wasn't the first time he'd tried to get into his son's mind, thus he'd come to expect this. He charged forward again—

_**GET OUT!**_

—and was thrown out just as quickly. Still, he pressed on. "RAZPUTIN!"

But no matter how hard he pushed, no matter how desperately he cried out, his son _still_ wouldn't let him in.

_**You don't belong! Get out! My mind, not yours! GO AWAY!**_

It was like being rained down on with nails. So fiercely did his son unconsciously shove out any outside interference that for a moment Augustus was sure that getting through was impossible. It was a feeling he easily shook himself out of, however; he'd managed to break into Razputin's mind before. It had never been easy, but it was definitely possible.

And then, quite suddenly, the wall shifted. Stubbornness became desperation determination became fear. And the strong, confident voice of bravery became a terrified cry for help. And then, just briefly, there was an opening. It was all he needed.

With a surge of strength, Augustus gave his thoughts one more push. The thick shell keeping him out of Razputin's mind finally began to crack wide open, until it shattered beneath the desperate father's determination. He felt himself plunging forward—

"UGH!"

—and he landed nearly on his face. He pushed himself to his feet, immediately taking in the sights. It was a circus tent, though somehow deformed; the center of it was made of what looked horrifically similar to a grinder. The blades were even covered in fresh blood. For a moment, for a very, very brief moment, he thought that blood belonged to his son. Fortunately, he was wrong.

Razputin stood not too far away, wasting no time in taking his goggles off of his eyes. His eyes were wide as saucers, his jaw wide open. Overall, the boy looked shocked to see him, but definitely not unhappy.

Augustus grinned in relief. "Razputin!" he cried, brushing off his pants as he pulled himself to his feet. "I see your skull is as hard to penetrate as ever."

The casual humor didn't do much to calm his son, but nonetheless Razputin seemed entirely too happy to see a familiar face. "Dad!" he cried, racing over.

The brief moment before Razputin reached him was enough for Augustus to put the pieces together. The twisted scenery, the way his son had looked so startled, the cry for help…something had happened to his son's mind. Had it, perhaps, had something to do with the other brain in the tank? He'd heard of things like this happening, when two minds became so entangled that their mindscapes would become cluttered and distorted.

He needed answers, and he only saw one person that could provide them. "What is your brain doing out here in this tank with this other brain?" He asked.

Razputin noticeably winced, taking a step backward. Augustus knew that look; it was the same look his son had given him when he'd walked in on him trying to set one of the hoops on fire with his mind. This look, however, seemed a bit more desperate, more afraid. He did not, however, offer a reply.

"Who are all these unconscious people?"

Still, Razputin said nothing. It was all too easy to tell that the boy wasn't going to like explaining himself, and there was no doubt he wan't anticipating his father taking it well, either. Augustus shook his head, burying his face in his hand. "What have you gotten yourself involved with this time, son?"

"Psychics!" hissed an all-too-familiar voice behind him, as though answering him. "He's been cavorting with_filthy, cheating psychics!_"

Every word stung. For a moment, Augustus was at loss for words. "Is that…"

The look on Razputin's face said it all. He was staring at the zombie of a man with a look of shame and cowardice, an expression that was completely unlike him. Part of Augustus was glad he got here when he did, but the other part of him wished he'd never come; seeing his son in this state was something he hardly would have wanted. "Is that really how I look in your mind?" he asked, although he hardly expected a response from his son. As expected, he didn't get one.

"Man, do I hate psychics!" the abomination continued, "And seeing my son happy!"

So that was it. That was why Razputin ran away from home, wasn't it? He'd suspected that he was angry, just being spiteful after he'd torn up the pamphlet. But it was all of this as well. Built up frustration and sadness. Razputin was notorious for covering these things up in favor of seeming confident and brave, and on the rare occasion when he broke down it was like watching a brick wall crumble into dust. It was never something he liked to see, and now that he was inside his mind, he not only saw it; he _felt_ it.

Augustus struggled to keep his voice calm. "I don't hate psychics," Augustus reasoned, hoping he could find some example to prove this to him. "I used my psychic connection with you to _find_ you, and to project myself into your mind."

All at once, the sadness and fear vanished, and Razputin turned on him angrily. "But how can you hate _me_for being psychic if _you're_ psychic too!?"

Razputin may have guarded his mind, but now that Augustus was in it, the boy couldn't mask his emotions quite so easily. A wave of confusion and rejection burst outward as he turned around and defiantly crossed his arms. Repressing a sigh, Augustus placed his hands on his son's shoulders. "Son," he began, "I could never _hate_ you. I only wanted you to be happy, Razputin. And _safe_."

The boy glanced back at him, still none too happy, but his expression _had_ softened a bit. Good, he was making progress. Razputin could be stubborn, but luckily that didn't mean he never listened when he really needed to.

"Our family has many enemies," Augustus explained, turning a glare to the zombified version of him, whom was swiftly approaching, juggling a set of flaming, spiked batons. He placed one hand to his head, and pointed the other at the abomination as it readied an attack. However, Augustus was readying one of his own, and from what he'd seen here, he had all the ammunition he needed.

_Not with my son, you don't._

It was almost sickeningly easy. The thought shot out his mind, down his arm and through his fingers, slamming into the zombie and sending it flying through the air, screaming, until it descended into the grinder. He could feel his son's surprise; the boy was clearly impressed, not to mention relieved that one more menace was out of the way.

"I have a lot more hair than _that_," Augustus scoffed, before hastily returning his attention to Razputin. "Now, son. We have to carefully unweave your psyche from that other brain. We don't want anything bad to happen while your mind is in this tangled state! The damage could be permanent—"

His words were cut short as the hellish grinder in the center of the tent erupted like a volcano, spitting out mutilated chunks of debris. Eventually, it spat out an enormous, grotesque creature. A two-headed abomination stared down at them both, haphazardly stitched together from the mutilated remains of whatever Razputin had been fighting earlier and the horrific version of himself. It sneered down at them, each of the heads talking in turn.

"Unweave?" it demanded. "Detangle? NEVER!"

The evil Augustus head grinned. "I _like_ it this way! I mean, look at how _huge_ I am!"

"And I think I can _juggle_ now!"

Both heads cackled in eerie unison, and one of the arms brandished an enormous butcher knife, freshly stained with blood.

Razputin's fear spilled into the air, mixed with rage. Augustus himself felt the influence of his son's anger and nearly ran forward to fight, but his own conscience screamed in protest, holding him back. Augustus was confident, but he was no fool. There was no way he could fight this thing. He knew just by looking that it was too powerful. Even if he tried with everything he had, there was no possible way he could take that thing on and live to tell the tale. But Razputin…maybe _he_ could.

_Of course. This is _his_ mind. He has the home field advantage._ Factoring in the training the boy had gone through in his absense, the odds were most certainly in their favor.

Razputin seemed to know it, too. His eyes were narrowed in a ferocity and anger that Augustus rarely saw, laced with the determination. His hands were balled in fists, and one hand was already reaching up to tap into his mind's power.

Augustus grabbed his son's hand before he could so much as throw a telekinetic punch. He knew his son was much more powerful than before, much more learned, but that wouldn't be enough against this beast. He was going to need a little help.

The very notion of this seemed to alert his son. Razputin glanced over, his fear overtaking his anger once again. He opened his mouth to speak, but he didn't. His face said it all: _What should I do?!_

"This is _your_ mind," Augustus explained, "So _you_ are the strong one here."

Razputin's eyes widened in a faint glimmer of hope and realization. Satisfied that his son was paying attention, Augustus lifted one hand. This wasn't going to be easy, nor was it something he wanted to do, but it was either this or let his son remain trapped in his own twisted mind forever. "What I'm about to give you, my son," he said, "You _must_ take care of it, because it's _everything I've got!_"

His son was already prepared, nodding his head in compliance while giving a brief, fearful glance back at the two-headed beast to make sure it wasn't too close. Augustus forced his eyes closed, instead reaching out with his mind to find where his son was. It was much easier than he anticipated; in fact, he could have sworn that somehow Razputin was reaching out towards him as well. Doubtless, the boy was unaware he was doing it, but he still did, and that made this much easier to accomplish.

Augustus searched his mind for an old technique he'd known for quite some time, one that he had kept secret for as long as he remembered. He grabbed it, pulled it forward, and shoved it toward Razputin, forcefully pushing the notion into his mind. It was the best he could do. Whether or not Razputin took it was up to him.

And take it he did. Razputin so eagerly reached for and grabbed his father's impromptu gift that he nearly took the rest of his mind with it. The desperate tug was enough for the rest to fall into place. The mere act of transferring that power to his son was exhausting, but he could still sense Razputin's sudden burst of courage and confidence.

When Augustus opened his eyes again, the scene before him was indeed a sight to behold. Razputin had done more than just accept his power; he was already putting it to use. He stood, encased in an impossibly enormous astral projection of himself, glowing with power. He was already racing forward, fists clenched and ready to strike.

But something else was happening to the world around them. The entire tent had burnt down, leaving a swirling storm of debris in its wake, the meat grinder in the center clogged and effectively sealed over. The sky had turned a blood-red hue, and any semblance that this place had once been a circus, let alone a disfigured one, was being completely demolished. With each blow that Razputin landed, more of the circus vanished, being torn from its place and thrown into the sky.

It took a moment for Augustus to realize what was happening, and when it did, it struck him hard. The world was reconstructing itself around them, or at least it was trying to. Something was holding it back, something important; he was willing to bet that the two-headed monstrosity before them was that thing.

Razputin landed a solid five or six punches on the monster before backing away briefly, readying himself for another round. There was an air of smugness as he prepared to unleash a flurry of blows again, and Augustus noticed the beast cowering, attempting to protect itself with a giant butcher knife. Before Razputin could deal any more damage, however, the projection dissolved, leaving him to drop to the ground, defenseless once again.

"It's gone!" Razputin cried in fear, the hulking dad-beast now towering over him once again. "Dad, I can't fight him like this! What do I do?!"

"Focus!" Augustus cried. "Focus that energy, Razputin! It _will_ come back to you, if you can just—"

The monster slammed its clawed foot against the ground, knocking both the Aquatos off balance and cutting off the elder's advice. Razputin tumbled into a half-broken wooden sign, while Augustus skidded past him, ending up dangerously close to the remains of an old spinning knife board. The monster stomped up to him, lifting its foot and preparing to smash him beneath it.

For a moment, Augustus feared he'd be crushed underneath the monster's clawed foot. But an instant later he saw it flying backward as Razputin charged forward, the giant astral projection back in working order.

In a single motion, Razputin plucked his father off the ground, leaped toward the back of the arena, and deposited him out of harm's way. He only caught a glimpse of his son's face, but he knew the boy knew how to control this. He knew what to do.

With every step the projection took, the world trembled. The two-headed monstrosity trembled as well, on its own accord, terror written all over both of its faces. Razputin began to yell angrily, throwing heavy, loud punches as he spoke. With each one, the world shifted, the threads unraveling and tangling together simultaneously.

"Keep your—"

BANG.

"—dirty claws—"

BAM.

"—off of—"

CRUNCH.

"—MY DAD!"

SMASH.

The last blow sent the two-headed dad monster sinking into the ground, its screams silenced by a dull whir. The projection around Razputin faded, and he landed on the ground next to Augustus. Both Aquatos were gasping for breath, thankful to be alive.

Unfortunately for them, there was little time for recovery. The ground shifted beneath them, and it quickly became apparent that everything was being drawn into the mental equivalent of a black hole. Augustus's guess had proven to be right: the last thing holding Razputin's mind from rebuilding itself was that beast. And now, it was going to go right on with its rebuilding, with them in the way or not.

He and his son began running backwards, trying to keep from falling into the abyss. When after a few seconds it became clear that it was getting the two of them nowhere, they spun around, charging forward, away from the vacuum They gave one final surge of strength, and leaped into the darkness ahead of them. Silence overtook the chaotic storm that once raged above them, and slowly everything went dark and quiet.


	3. Like Father, Like Son

Razputin was fine. He was definitely unconscious, but still…fine. Augustus let out a sigh of relief he had no idea he'd been holding. There were no more threats here. His son would be alright.

He cast an anxious glance back at the caravan behind them. This must be the entrance to his son's mind, surrounded by the thick fog. No doubt it was part of his mental defense. Sometimes trying to get into his son's mind felt like he was slamming up against a wall of nails, others it felt simply too far out of his reach. Then again, maybe the fog represented something else.

And the caravan…something pulled his attention to it, demanded he come closer. He should have already known what was inside, but there was something else that pulled at him. Concern, perhaps? No…it was something else: Curiosity. Another trait Razputin and his father shared, it seemed.

Well, it couldn't hurt. Making sure his son's mind was still intact after that scuffle was important, after all. After a final glance back at the two boys and the bunny, Augustus ducked into the caravan (who made doors this small, anyway?) and passed through the hall.

Inside, there were still posters from the circus for several of their attractions, but most of them were faded, torn up, peeling off, or had already fallen to the ground. In their place were posters depicting various scenes from True Psychic Tales, although one circus poster remained: the one depicting the Aquato family.

As Augustus made his way out of the hallway, he found nothing but a mess of debris waiting for him, the tornado still picking it away from the mindscape, albeit much more gently this time. Augustus gave a quiet sigh. What he had seen before the mayhem must have been Razputin's reflection on the circus. It was no secret that the boy found that life painfully dull at times, entertaining the notion of living the life of a hero straight out of a comic book.

There were bits and pieces in place already, slowly revealing Razputin's newer psyche. It was eerily silent, and although remnants of the circus still refused to be permanently removed from the boy's psyche, it had for the most part disappeared.

There was, however, one tucked away corner that didn't quite fit. The colors seemed to shift to different hues, and even the light seemed to dim. The lively air of the circus - much less twisted this time - still remained, and there stood a single, small tent. Augustus turned away from the central ring and made his way into the darkness.

The moment he pushed his way past the cloth door, the scenery changed entirely. No longer were the cloth walls dull; instead they were warm, colorful and inviting. Although this room was still as silent as the rest of Razputin's mind - at least at the moment, it was silent - it wasn't the kind of eerie silence that had been in the rest of his mind. This silence was a peaceful one; the kind Augustus was usually fond of after a long day of performing in front of particularly enthusiastic crowds. Yes, this room was _much_ nicer than the rest of the place was.

Although it closely resembled Razputin's tent from the caravan, certain aspects seemed different. There was a bunk bed in place of his sleeping bag, at the feet of each bunk a small chalk board. At the top, someone had scrawled "Raz" on the chalkboard, while the bottom one remained blank and clearly unused. The bed looked as though it had been recently used; the pillow was lying off to the side in the middle and the blankets were pulled mostly out of place.

What Augustus noticed more than anything, however, were the posters and mounds of books lying about the room. The books were all, of course, issues of True Psychic Tales, and the posters depicted the comic's characters in glorified and adventurous ways. Most of them depicted three of the people he'd seen unconscious in the real world: Sasha Nein, Milla Vodello, and Ford Cruller.

One poster, in particular, stood out. It didn't seem professionally printed; rather, it looked more hand-painted, or even hand-drawn. There, standing on a cliff's edge with a fist held triumphantly in the air, was a boy. Clad in a leather jacket and slacks, a familiar green turtleneck, an old aviator hat and a pair of goggles, with a satchel slung around his back and a fierce grin on his face. The poster was captioned, "True Psychic Tales! Introducing Razputin Aquato, the world's youngest and greatest Psychonaut!"

Augustus squinted. The more he looked at the poster, the more he realized that it was transparent; he could clearly see through it to the wall. Odd… was the poster not truly there? Or was something else at work?

Augustus sat on the lower bunk, taking a deep breath. This room felt like a safe haven, even though the door was little more than a flap of cloth. And yet…something seemed oddly out of place.

He glanced to the side and found it. There was a small door that hadn't been there before, just off to the side, neatly blending itself with the poster-covered wall. It opened slowly, as though inviting him in. With a cautious last glance around the room, Augustus walked forward, pushing the door open a bit more and stepping inside.

This area…it was different. It wasn't tangled with the rest of Razputin's mind, and Augustus could tell that this wasn't something Razputin unwillingly let happen, which seemed odd considering how out of place it was. It was a small, simple room, with books lining the shelves and a few computer screens displaying vague information on criminals and happenings around the world. Beneath the glass floor was a pulsing violet stone, and when he looked up, he could see it occupying the ceiling as well. It was as though someone had built a library in a cavern of some kind of crystal.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Augustus took a closer look at one of the screens that, for whatever reason, was glowing much brighter than the others. There was a list of badges, with details scribbled beneath all of them as to what they did, what augments they all held, and when they had been obtained, though oddly they seemed to have the similar and close dates. Next to them was a figure of a boy, naming several of his characteristics - his age, height, weight, several details (one of which listed "DO NOT TAKE SWIMMING"), and a name: Razputin "Raz" Aquato.

"I was wonderin' when you were gonna show up."

Startled, Augustus turned around to see an old man standing behind him, his hands calmly crossed behind his back, a knowing smirk on his face. What stood out more than anything, however, was the emblem on his green sweater: it was the symbol of the Psychonauts.

"So you must be Razputin's father," The man said, rather cheerfully. "I heard a lot about you from him. Can't say it was all nice, but you know how kids are these days. Heheh."

Friendly or not, a father couldn't help but be suspicious when a stranger spoke with such familiarity concerning his son. "Who are you?" Augustus demanded.

"No one you need to worry too much about," the old man replied, grinning. "I've been keepin' an eye on your son while he's been in this camp, makin' sure he doesn't get himself into too much trouble."

That's when it hit him. Augustus had seen this man unconscious outside, with a violet, glowing stone strapped to his back. "You're one of the camp councilors, aren't you?" He asked.

The man shrugged. "Eh, somethin' like that. Name's Ford Cruller. No doubt by now you've probably already heard of me from your son."

"He does mention you quite a bit," Augustus replied. From time to time, he'd catch Razputin talking about the man with great reverence; Ford Cruller was supposed to be the greatest leader the Psychonauts had ever had. "But what are you doing in my son's mind?"

"I just told you, I'm keepin' an eye on him!" Cruller replied. "With all that was goin' on, I wanted to make sure he didn't get himself into too much trouble."

"And now there are unconscious people outside, and my son's brain is floating in a tank." Augustus crossed his arms, glaring at the man. "What sort of trouble were you trying to keep him from?"

"Psychic death tanks," came the casual answer. "Well…that, and giant lungfish, telekinetic bears, cougars… I never made a list, but I'm pretty sure it's long by now."

It wasn't an answer that Augustus liked. He took a firm step forward. He wasn't quite as tall as this man, but he liked to think that his stance made him seem gigantic. "I want you to leave my son's mind," He stated firmly. "I appreciate the help you've given him, but—"

"Don't you worry about it!" Cruller replied. "I'll be outta here once we're all awake again. I was only stowin' away in case he needed some help, after all. And at this point, he's proven himself more than capable of handling himself out there. You oughta be proud, Augustus. That young man's got heart that we don't often see in our ranks."

For that moment, Augustus's heart swelled with pride. His son could be selfish and perhaps arrogant, but he'd seen those times when he'd defended his siblings when they were getting made fun of, or when he'd settle fights between his brothers and sisters. When you got past it all, Razputin was actually quite thoughtful. Whether it got him into trouble more often than it got him out of it was debatable.

"He's probably gonna wake up soon," Cruller continued. "What do you plan on doin' now, Augustus?"

"Take him home," the man replied sternly. "He's in enough trouble already. Running away, for a start…"

Cruller looked…oddly disappointed. "Really? After all that trouble he went through, he's going back to jumpin' through hoops and swingin' on trapeezes for the rest of his life?"

Augustus narrowed his eyes. "Yes, he is. It's certainly less dangerous than what he's been trying to do for the past week."

"I see," Cruller replied, sighing. "I guess it can't be helped. I'll sure miss seein' him around. Remind me to thank him when he gets back up."

Something about the way Cruller said it made Augustus pause. "Thank him…?" He echoed. "For what?"

"What, ya couldn't tell?" Cruller grinned, crossing his arms. "Who do you think took out that tank while all of us were unconscious? And I couldn't re-brain our staff and campers all by myself, you know. I needed someone to help me out, and that son of yours was the only one willing and able to do it. We may very well owe him our lives. Maybe even more."

It was then that Augustus looked more closely at the monitor. It didn't show Razputin in his favorite blazer and aviator hat. Instead, it featured the boy wearing what appeared to be a green turtleneck and matching slacks, with a familiar symbol emblazoned on his chest.

"Would you believe the kid almost gave it all up?"

Augustus looked back at Cruller, confused. "What?"

"The moment he saw we were in danger - 'specially that lady friend of his - Razputin hardly paid that dream of his any mind. Sure, he still brought it up every so often, but I could tell his focus was on settin' things right. When he's got people counting on him, there's nothing that can get in that kid's way."

The monitor flickered through several scenes, presumably from Razputin's point of view. Spying on a speech over a campfire. Leaping over chasms and dodging land mines in a hellish battlefield. Evading a blast from an animated blueprint of the tank outside. Confronting an enormous, mutated fish that held his friend captive, only to be swatted away. Being tossed aside by a giant, angry bull, only to rise again and press on. Climbing up a twisted tower, shaking angry rats off his trail. Shielding his friend from the falling debris of the crumbling asylum. Each time, an obstacle in his way, a danger faced, only for him to stand right back up and face it down once again.

"Actions speak a lot louder than words, Augustus," Cruller said. "And your son certainly isn't all talk."

Augustus sighed. After all that, was it really right to deny his son that dream? To take him back home and have him perform for the rest of his life, when here he saw the boy really did have the heart to put everything on the line for those he cared about? He'd said before that Razputin was always full of surprises, but this… This was beyond anything he'd ever been shown.

"Perhaps…it _is_ time for him to move on."

Cruller arched an eyebrow. "Hrn?"

"I won't be here to protect him forever," Augustus explained, sitting on one of the benches. "I've told him many times before. Our family has many enemies. We can't keep hiding like this forever."

"You don't have anything to worry about," The old man said, grinning knowingly. "From what we've seen so far, we already know that boy can take care of himself."

Augusus looked away. He felt defeated, but oddly satisfied, not to mention proud. He began to walk away, but before he left the room, he cast one last look at the old man behind him. "Cruller?"

"Eh?"

"Thank you. For protecting my son."

"Anytime!" The man replied. "Now go on, git! Your son needs you more than I do!"

Giving a curt nod and confident smile, Augustus exited the strange room, barely noticing as it faded from existence behind him.


End file.
